


Inhale, exhale

by captainhurricane



Series: Kinktober 2018 [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Dom!Shiro, M/M, Rimming, Shotgunning, sub!Keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 12:57:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16198007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainhurricane/pseuds/captainhurricane
Summary: Keith needs it. So Shiro gives it.





	Inhale, exhale

**Author's Note:**

> today was supposed to be S/M but i just went with D/S lmao because i'm weak  
> also shotgunning

Keith gets home fifteen minutes before Shiro does. It’s been timed perfectly and he’s punctual. He always is. And after the shit day, no, shit week he’s had, he needs to be controlled. Every movement. Every hitch of breath.

He exists to be just a body.

“Shiro,” he sighs as he undresses carefully, folds each item of clothing and places them by the bed. He takes a quick, yet thorough shower. He dries himself but doesn't put on clothes. He won't be needing those for a while.

Keith stretches, warms himself up once he’s fully naked. He pushes away the usual Shiro from his mind, his caring, loving boyfriend and replaces it with Sir, who is loving in an entirely different way.

Keith’s skin tingles. His heart has begun to race. He digs through their drawers, takes out a few items he knows his Sir will like. Rolls himself a joint and lights it up, just a few puffs to make him more pliant, make him calmer. His Sir will know what to do.

Keith breathes the smoke in deep and leaves the joint for his Sir to finish. When the front door clicks, Keith bites back a smile.

He doesn’t have to wait long.

“Hi baby,” Shiro says from the door, out of his trench coat and his shoes. “That kind of a day, huh?”

Keith nods and turns to him, steps into the warm embrace of his lover, his boyfriend, his Sir.

“You smell so good, Takashi,” Keith murmurs, presses his nose to the slight stubble covering Shiro’s chin, presses his lips to it and more feels than sees Shiro’s smile.

“So do you, baby,” Shiro hums and runs his fingers down Keith’s spine. “You are a sight for sore eyes. Give me the joint. Let’s share.”

Keith nods immediately and fetches it, gives it to his Sir.

The corners of Shiro’s cool grey eyes wrinkle, his smile remains serene as he takes a puff. He grabs Keith’s chin and prompts him to part his lips.

Keith does, inhales deep when Shiro blows smoke into his mouth.

“Good boy,” Shiro whispers, brushes his lip. “Want more?”

Keith nods. “Yes, Sir.” He’s tall enough that he doesn’t have to get on his tip-toes to kiss Shiro anymore, the size difference, height difference between them reduced to a few centimeters over the years but it’s enough that Shiro holds himself like he was Atlas, holding the world.

Keith is his, through and through.

They share more smoke, sweet, relaxing.

Keith sighs as he’s kissed, as he scratches Shiro’s undercut, just gently enough to hear the hitch in Shiro’s breath. Shiro squeezes his ass and nudges him.

“On the bed, sweetheart. Put the gag on.” His voice has shifted from its usual cadence to something else: to power, the expectation of obedience.

To Keith’s credit, his knees don’t buckle as he climbs on their luxurious bed and takes the spider gag.

“Good,” Shiro says and his belt clinks as he opens his pants. “Come here and lick me.”

The gag clutches at the corners of Keith’s mouth, his tongue hangs out, waiting as he crawls to the edge of the bed.

“No speaking. I don’t need words from you,” Shiro reminds him and pulls out his cock. Even flaccid, it’s big.

Keith’s mouth waters.

Shiro grabs Keith’s hair, grabs the base of his cock and guides it closer.

“Just your tongue, kitten.”

Keith licks can’t hold back a groan when he tastes his Sir. His Sir hums but keeps his hips still, his grip on Keith’s hair tightens. Keith licks again, drags his tongue over the side. He can’t wrap his lips around and he whines, suddenly irritated at the cold steel in his mouth, keeping it open.

“You’re not complaining, are you?” Shiro runs his fingers through Keith’s hair. A thread of danger in his Sir’s voice.

Keith shakes his head and nuzzles that thick cock, inhales Shiro’s scent deep. Licks again, laps at the head, at the sides, whines when Shiro grips his hair tight and forces his mouth against his balls.

“Don’t forget, baby.”

Keith won’t forget. He wants to please his Sir. He wants his Sir to get hard and fuck Keith to pieces.

He twirls his tongue, licks and licks and licks until his tongue begins to feel numb. He’s not allowed to stop so he doesn’t.

“Put your hands behind your back, just like that.” Sir’s cock is hard, harder, he pushes it in Keith’s waiting mouth and keeps it there. Sir leans over him and rubs Keith’s shoulders, back, ass.

Sir grabs a hold of Keith’s wrists, that sleek prosthetic hand big enough, powerful enough to do it all by itself.

Sir hums as he begins to fuck Keith’s mouth, one hand still gripping Keith’s hair.

“You have been on my mind, baby,” Sir purrs. “It was torture to leave the bed this morning, to leave you with just one kiss.”

Keith’s eyes are closed, all of his focus on the hands holding him, the hard dick shoved into his mouth. He whines, his own cock beginning to drip to the sheets. The weed has made him more pliant, has made his movements slower. He wouldn’t struggle even if he could: this is the way he wants to be, right now.

His Sir will take care of him and fuck the bad thoughts away.

Like Keith will take care of his Sir and kiss him, all over him, until he smiles again.

But before Sir comes into his mouth, he pulls away. Keith whines, eyes fluttering open and glancing up.

Sir’s smile is a sweet, fragile thing. He takes off the gag and rubs the little pink indents it’s left. “Colour, baby?”

Keith licks his lips, tingles with excitement when his tongue catches Sir’s fingers. “Green. More, Sir.”

“On your stomach then, baby. Spread your cheeks so I can see you.”

Keith swallows and turns, lifts up his ass, grabs his cheeks and spreads. He smiles at the hitch of breath he gets for it.

“You are so gorgeous, so good to me,” his Sir whispers and lays a kiss on his fingers, on his ass. He twines silky, soft ropes around Keith’s wrists, around his ankles, to keep them spread.

His Sir never stops touching him, never stops whispering little confessions of love, little praise that makes Keith’s cheeks burn. He sighs when he smells the sweet smoke of their joint.

“Another, sweetheart?” Shiro climbs over him, turns his head and blows into his mouth.

Keith inhales, cheeks burning harder. “Sir.”

“I know, baby,” Sir whispers and kisses his cheek. Sir kisses lower, ever lower, his touches firm, so firm he’s sure to leave fingerprints everywhere. He’s staking his claim of his baby boy’s body, like it’s his right.

Keith knows to stay still. He still quivers. He arches like a cat and by the chuckle of his Sir, he’s done right.

“My sweet kitten,” Sir murmurs and then he’s licking Keith between his cheeks, grabbing his ass with thick, big hands and licking him, kissing him, burying his face between peachy, round cheeks. Sir moans.

Keith whimpers. His Sir has perfected this art to the extent that it’s easy, almost too easy, for Keith to come from just this: just his Sir teasing his ass, tongue-fucking him until he cries.

Keith is nothing but a body right now, a body for his Sir to use. He drifts further into the head space and moans as Sir’s tongue slips into him, tastes him deeper.


End file.
